The Mad Conductor

Catherine Nicolette
MOM AND I WERE LEARNING OPERETTA from a retired singer in Welkom. Do, re, mi, fa . . . deep breathing exercises, arpeggio scales. Altogether, a very happy time.
Italian operetta became my life when I was not working or studying. Trying to hit the 'high B' became my life's ambition, and the day I hit high C, my cup of joy overflowed. Singing had its pitfalls, however. Not the least of them, that it's loud. To say the least.

Cats Chorus
The first time Mom and I managed to finish an Italian duet, we were delighted with ourselves. Dad was making tea in the kitchen, and there was dead silence as we triumphantly came to an end. "Dad, Dad" I called. He came to the door with a red and white checked teatowel slung over his shoulder. "What did it sound like?" I asked. Dad answered,"Rather like two cats I once heard wailing on top of a wall," and took a fit of laughing. Outraged, I put my nose in the air. Dad went off chuckling to make some tea, and Mom and I exchanged a look.
However, we persevered. And thus it came to pass that Mom and I spent many a happy day singing at local Weddings and Church Festivals
. 
Outskirts of the Bush
Years later I was living and working in the heat of a South African town at the outskirts of the bush. I was still organist and singer and sometime conductor at the local Church. 
One particular Sunday the choir, by popular demand, asked for "The Holy City" to be played after Communion. All week we practised whenever we had a chance. Sunday came, and we threw ourselves heart and soul into the task. After Communion and Thanksgiving, our little troupe sang with heartfelt devotion. We all finished our song to a stunned silence from the Church. Truly a happy end to a beautiful Service.

Schoolboys
After Mass, we all greeted each other and I went on my way. 
Humming, I came to a bend in the road. Around the corner were a group of boarder schoolboys. They were convulsed with laughter at the choir's antics; in particular one tall young gentleman. Eventually when he could get his breath, he cried, "Wait! Wait! I'll do the mad conductor . . . " 
Striped muffler around his throat, he stood straight and majestic in the midst of the road. 
He raised an imaginary baton much in parody of the choir introduction I had given; and then began a performance of a conductor wildly leading the few. He shook his arms, threw them about, and then staggered about, laughing convulsively.

Thoughtfully I regarded them, before continuing on my way.
 Never mind, I mused, they're still young; one day, they'll appreciate good music . . .  


The Mormon Tabernacle Choir - The Holy City - Jerusalem
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OUfdCBaN8o&list=RD5OUfdCBaN8o#t=2 

The Holy City Lyrics - Charlotte Church 
http://www.sing365.com/music/lyric.nsf/The-Holy-City-lyrics-Charlotte-Church/942C03710B28FD2548256AEA0003D3DD 

With thanks to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Youtube and sing365

Launching my book was an adventure

Luky;
LAUNCHING MY FATIMA BOOK was an exciting yet at times hair-raising experience.
My reader friend I told you about, the one who had promised to have the printing done, sent me a copy of the way it should have been typed. This arrived the day after the typing and illustrations had been completed, and it turned out I had not typed the book in the way I should have.
So I took a deep breath, approached a local printer instead, and asked Sean to guarantee the printing costs, in case I should not be able to cover them.
My reader friend sent me a considerable sum to start the ball rolling, and I then approached friends and fellow parishioners for donations.

Lots offered
The generosity of my friends and fellow parishioners staggered me. Within three weeks the entire cost of the first thousand copies had been settled.
On May 13, exactly 66 years after the day Our Lady first appeared to the three little shepherds at Fatima, I posted the first lot, which contained gift copies to sixty-odd Bishops then resident in southern Africa.

Although I had prepared the manilla envelopes with addresses, the evening of May 12 was a busy one, with my bedroom converted into an office and children closing manilla envelopes wherever you looked.
We organised the youngest with a box of colouring pencils and she coloured in the pictures of her own copy while the rest of us were working away.
About three hours after starting, when we'd nearly finished, one of us spotted the youngest, seated at her little chair and table which she liked to pretend was her office desk with tears pouring down her face, looking as if her heart would break.

Non-plussed we asked: "What's the matter?"
"I went out for a little while," she sobbed, "and when I came back someone had posted my colouring book."
As I comforted her the awful thought hit me. Some Bishop was going to be the lucky recipient of a Fatima book half coloured in by my youngest.
With horror I gazed at the enormous pile of envelopes.

Let it go
"Should we tear them open, Ma?" my second son asked.
"What, and lose all those stamps and readdress all those envelopes? No ways", I decided, but a lot of the satisfaction had gone out of the job for me.
One way and another, I was happy to know that I had finally been given my long awaited opportunity of spreading the beautiful message of Fatima.

One thought kept bothering me: which Bishop was presented with the coloured-in copy?


For those who wish; here is the book
http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2013/12/three-little-shepherd-meet-our-lady-of.html
Chapter One; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2013/12/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of.html
Chapter Two; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of.html
Chapter Three; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_16.html
Chapter Four; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_1064.html
Chapter Five; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_1732.html
Chapter Six; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_6579.html
Chapter Seven; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_7087.html
Chapter Eight; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_9510.html
Chapter Nine; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_17.html
Chapter Ten; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_8108.html
Chapter Eleven; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_5048.html 
Chapter Twelve; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_5857.html 
Chapter Thirteen; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_4678.html
How to Recite the Rosary; http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_7459.html 
The Great Promise of the Five First Saturdays;  
http://childrenpraise.blogspot.ie/2014/03/three-little-shepherds-meet-our-lady-of_6761.html

A little harmless fun keeps you going

Luky;
THERE ARE TIMES when I notice in myself a tendency towards bigotry and narrow-mindedness which frightens me.
You've got to live in the world and play an active part in its daily life, and I find that when you become bigoted you turn yourself away from reality.
There is a definite demarcation between righteousness and self-righteousness; yet there are times when, endeavouring to be righteous, I become self-righteous.

Fortunately my husband used to laugh me out of my confined outlook. His was a chequered career, and his vast experience stood me in good stead many a time.
Having studied philosophy for three years, he looked more deeply into the motivation behind people's actions that I did; and having worked in health care, he was convinced that a gloomy outlook leads to self-harm rather than self-improvement.

Prodigal Air
And so I was in the odd position where I always had to nag him for the necessities of life, whereas he dished out luxuries with a prodigal air.
He believed that if you have a bit of fun to look forward to now and again, you will be able to travel more happily on life's weary road.
Whether this fun consists of a drink, a visit to the races, a film, a library book or a bar of chocolate, he felt you should have it.

School books
"But we'll have to buy school books in January", I would say despairingly.
"Have you ever not been able to buy school books in January?" he asked. And it is true, I hadn't.
Mind you, I loved his easy-going way, and although I tried not to overdo it, I used to thank my lucky stars for him on a Sunday afternoon when he had a drink, which galvanised him into cooking my dinner for me and kept our children out of my hair while I could stay in my room with library books and the wireless on, munching a bar of chocolate which did nothing to reduce my weight.

Sure enough, I hated myself the next day when I had to go back on diet, or at times like the one when my son paid me what he thought was a great compliment:
"Gosh Ma, you've got strong muscles", he praised (who wouldn't have, after so many years of carting babies and toddlers around?}
"If only I had muscles like that, I wouldn't mind being as fat as you are."
Never mind, I still think it's a good idea to give oneself a break now and then.
What does it say in Desiderata?
"Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. . ." 
We tried not to be too hard on our children. Does God expect us to be too hard on ourselves?

Make ends meet
Some chosen souls, yes, surely, but the average poor soul who tries to make ends meet and do his or her duty most of the time can allow a harmless treat now and then, beyond doubt.
And so this is how it came about that when I was asked what I had done over the weekend, I was able to say: "Well, on Friday I went to the races and on Saturday we had a procession in honour of Our Lady."
"What a contrast," someone remarked.
"Not really", I said. "I was merely rendering to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's."

Or don't you agree?

BREAKING NEWS; 5.3 Earthquake hits South Africa

EARLIER TODAY DR LUKY WHITTLE AND HER SON HAD TO FLEE A BUILDING IN KROONSTAD AS AN EARTHQUAKE REGISTERING 5.3 ON THE RICHTER SCALE SHOOK THE AREA. Phonecalls from Lumiere friends, families and volunteers flooded in during the morning, as shaken voices reassured all in Dublin that they were ok. According to Luky, she and Joseph were in a building in Kroonstad when a small quake, lasting about 10 seconds, shook the building. Then the earthquake hit, and all had to flee the building in fear of their lives as the walls and roof shook so much it appeared the building was in danger of collapsing. The children and vulnerable were pushed out of the buildings first.

Luky said, "I lived in a mining town all my life, and was used to the quakes there. But this was a far different experience. Friends have been ringing me; in Pretoria, elevators shook and doors rattled. Other friends from Botswana and Durban told me they also experienced the quake."
The Epicentre of the quake was reportedly in Orkney, 105 miles southwest of Johannesburg. Britain has also been affected by quakes in the last few days, Lumiere family and volunteers there have reassured that they are ok.

A Candle has been lit by Lumiere in remembrance of all who have suffered and died in the quake. Blessings on Earthquake-Report.com which has been a source of vital information to us, family and friends, in foreign lands at this time. Our thoughts are with those who are bereaved, trapped in mines, have lost their buildings and homes, been injured.

http://earthquake-report.com/2014/08/05/strong-earthquake-south-africa-on-august-5-2014/

http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/world/2014/08/05/quake-hits-south-africa/13612291/?utm_source=feedblitz&utm_medium=FeedBlitzRss&utm_campaign=usatoday-newstopstories 

http://earthquaketrack.com/p/south-africa/recent    

http://www.sabreakingnews.co.za/2014/08/05/massive-tremor-shakes-southern-africa/

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-143899/Another-quake-rocks-Manchester.html

With thanks to Earthquake-report, usatoday, earthquaketrack, sabreakingnews.co.za, dailymail.co.uk

Flâneries in Forests and Fields

Wildflowers

In Dublin? Why not visit the Olivier Cornet Gallery and see the beautiful group show 'Flâneries in forests and fields'

featuring works by 

Hugh Cummins, Mark Doherty, Michelle Dunne,

John Fizsimons, Jordi Forniés, Conrad Frankel,

Daniel Lipstein, Jason Lowe, Seán Mulcahy,

Yanny Petters and Adrienne Symes.

The artist Yanny Petters Verre Églomisé panels entranced me. Yanny's aim, within her work, is to 'draw attention to the lesser plants, which are often considered to be weeds. Wild plants are an essential plant of the symbiosis of the earth, giving humanity the basis for medicine, food, dyes and garden flowers as well as many other uses.' 1

The glowing colours of Conrad Frankel's 'The sea road' reminded me of the beauty of Monet's creations.

WHERE? Olivier Cornet Gallery

JF Studios, 5 Cavendish Row, Dublin 1

(opposite Gate Theatre)

WHEN? Tuesdays to Fridays 11am - 6pm (till 8pm Thursdays)

Saturdays to Sundays 12pm to 5pm

Monday closed

Exhibition on until 30 August 2014

1 The story behind a series of Verre Églomisé panels by the artist Yanny Petters. Brochure, 2013

http://www.culturefox.ie/event/flaneries-in-forests-and-fields-olivier-cornet-gallerys-midsummer-group-show/29463.aspx

http://www.oliviercornetgallery.com/ 

How to find the Olivier Cornet Gallery 
http://www.oliviercornetgallery.com/#/contact-find-us/4561692678 

http://www.yannypetters.net/

http://www.yannypetters.net/about.html

http://www.yannypetters.net/assets/julienne-hanson-essay.pdf

With thanks to culturefox.ie, oliviercornetgallery.com, yannypetters.net, julienne hanson.pdf
Image by Catherine Nicolette ' Wildflowers' - for use copyright free

I'd rather cheer up under my own steam

Luky;
ONE NIGHT we nipped into the public lounge of one of the local hotels for a drink.
I am uneasy in hotels. In strong contrast, my husband loved them.
Whether he entered the pub, or the lounge with its dim lights and soft music, it was all the same to him - he was in his element.
And so I sometimes went along with him, especially when I wanted a quiet, uninterrupted chat about the things in life that count, such as money.
I did not get far that night. In the corner of the lounge, a woman was seated, unescorted. She sat with her back to us, and a pretty back it was. Then she turned and stared at us in a certain unblinking, wavering way, and I could see she was inebriated. Under the lovely dark hair her face was ravaged, and I reflected sorrowfully on the pity of the fact.
I did not watch her in a spirit of censoriousness or disgust. I am the last person in the world to have the right to that, having decided to become a teetotaller only when I began to have difficulty in putting the cork back on the bottle when I should.

Troubles
One bad day somebody imparted a bit of information to me which made me feel as if the ceiling had dropped on my head, and that feeling persistently grew worse until I felt like the old man who said:
"Everyone's got troubles, but no one has mine."
"You look all in", my husband would say with concern: "Let me pour you a spot." 
And I'd agree apathetically. That was when I sampled the therapeutic value of a drink for the first time, and incidentally learnt to have an abiding pity for those people who turn to the bottle for solace. 
That heavy stone resting on my heart would lift, and soon I'd be feeling almost human. Ten minutes later the stone would drop back and I'd toss off another few drinks like a seasoned veteran.
If you are expecting this to turn into the heartwarming story of a young mother, who, having descended to the gutter on her drinking sprees, found her feet again, I'm afraid I must disillusion you. I didn't get as far as the gutter because I've got more sense than that.
Our Lord counselled us to firmly resist temptation, and He never spoke lightly. I do give the front door of the bottle store a very wide berth.
You may feel that everything taken in moderation is good for one. But what happens if you don't know how to moderate yourself?

Catherine Nicolette
Moderation; what a balanced word. And how hard it is to manage at times. One time I didn't manage it was when I visited some deeply respected families. Feeling somewhat out of my depth and, not knowing many people there, I became a little wallflower next to the luxuriously patterned wallpaper. But not for long. The host, an expansive and kindly man, took the measure of my discomfort and came over to me. "I've got just the thing for you", he said, "some of my homebrewed wine."
"Don't touch any of it", his wife warned me, "that stuff is lethal."
"Why?" I asked, intrigued. "What is it made of?"

Harmless
The host, embarrassed, mumbled of such items as elderflower, honey, raisins. And sugar. They all sounded most harmless.
"Yes, of course I'll try some", I said. The host beamed, and poured a generous tumblerful. I drank it. Then some more. It was a hot day, and I was really thirsty.
I followed it with rice wine. And what better to end it all up with than peach wine - which, incidentally, had a mellow and well rounded taste.
Dear Reader, take it from me; if wine from the grapes needs to be treated with respect, homemade wines should only be handled with fireproof oven gloves, and drunk to the maximum of a sewing thimble size.

Foreigner
Within one hour, I was merry. Within two hours, one of my fellow elderflower drinkers got up, bowed deeply and ceremonially to the foreigner in their midst, and serenaded me with a beautiful local song. I do remember part of the song paying tribute to my shining eyes. They were shining all right; warmed with peaches and spice.
It seemed only right that I stand up and sing a song back to him. After, of course a deep ceremonial bow from the waist from the foreigner to the locals in the midst. We were both misty eyed with emotion and overcome by the beauty of our songs. I had, of course, not taken one vital fact into consideration; the gentleman had a wife. To whom he had been married thirty years. Who was seated next to him. 

Disgrace
One of my friends came to visit me the next morning. I was in deep disgrace. After receiving a strong lecture, to which I humbly listened, I fervently begged forgiveness and contritely promised never to touch of the juice of the elderflower or peach again. 
My friend bitterly ended by recounting his deep shame that morning, when one of his friends came to him and said, "You never told me that your friend from Ireland was a drinker . . ."

I Helped a Lass Who'd Helped Herself

Luky;
I HAD SUCH A MISERABLE EXPERIENCE: there was a little shop in one of our suburbs, a cosy little place. Everything was spotless and shiny, and the shelves were crammed with such homely items as English jams and packaged cakes. I could spend hours in a place like that.
Unfortunately, when I got to the till, a young girl was caught pinching a packet of sweets.
I was scared of the consequences for her, so I offered to pay. The cashier accepted the payment, but said that the child's mother had to be told.

I did, too
I could go along with that, but it did cast a gloom over that cosy little shop.
I blush to remember all the sweets I pinched in my life. Fortunately for me, the only shop I pinched them from happened to belong to my parents.
In view of this past of mine, I've ended up surprisingly honest. I've managed to keep to the straight and narrow.
Only once in my adult years have I been seriously tempted to steal something.

Faded glory
We were living in the seaside resort where my husband was born and brought up. A house was up for sale in the middle of town, and my husband, his brother and his sister wanted to go and look at it; so we all trooped up to the estate agent for the key and invaded the house.
What a sorry sight met our eyes. Dry rot had set in, and though my sister-in-law who wore size 12 dresses scaled those staircases like a gazelle, the steps creaked so alarmingly under my more solid weight that I bade the others godspeed and remained on the landing of the first floor.

Threadbare
From the landing I looked into the parlour, a picture of past grandeur. The brocade curtains which still hung there were so threadbare that they would have looked at home only in Miss Havisham's boudoir. Two easy chairs were covered with holes - can a chair be covered or filled with holes? Perhaps not, but these certainly looked at though they were.
And yet the whole place looked as though people had once been very happy there.
"Was there ever a sweeter colleen in the dance than Eily More,/ or a prouder lad than Thady as he boldly took the floor?"

Sudden treasure
Beside me on the landing was a lofty built-in dresser, its empty shelves visible through big glass doors. Idly I opened a drawer, expecting it to be empty, but in it were two perfectly preserved leather covered photo albums, clearly dating from another epoch.
What a find! Breathlessly I paged through the album, admiring pages of exquisite photographs of family groups dressed in the fashion of the very wealthy of the late nineteenth century.

Friendly house
You don't often see it in real life, but each one of those men, women, boys and girls looked beautiful, perfect, glowing with health and life. Their exquisite clothes caught my fancy and I began picking out Eily More and Thady, whose wedding photograph appeared near the end of the second album, after they had been shyly edging more and more closely together at picnics, dances and family entertainments.
So these were the people who had lived in this gaunt yet friendly house. No wonder it still retained its pleasant atmosphere.

Seemed doomed
I was carrying a bag, a shopping bag. Should I quickly put these albums into it? Who'd miss them? They had clearly been overlooked by the present owner of the house and were going to be demolished when the house was. It did not need an expert to tell me that even the low asking price of the house would not cover the rebuilding that would be needed.
On the other hand, I could ask the landlord if I might keep the albums. But perhaps it would be better not to; ever since we'd landed in his country my husband had been blushing for me, mutely apologising for my many clangers.

Moment of decision
I heard voices coming closer; the other members of my party were returning. Sighing, I returned my albums (for somehow they felt as though they were mine) back to their drawer. With the others I made my hazardous way downstairs, walking as closely to the bannisters as possible, since the stairs appeared more sturdy there.
For many years after I was torn between two emotions, gratitude that I hadn't given in to temptation and sorrow to think of the fate of my albums.
But now I'm please I left them there, because however could I have explained my possession of them to the children?